


Keep Running up that Hill

by hewaslost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hewaslost/pseuds/hewaslost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purgatory is a minefield at the best of times, but as Dean, Cas, and Benny work their way towards freedom Dean realises that the landscape isn't the only thing with danger waiting in the wings. There's nothing like a heart to heart with a bedraggled angel to remind you that danger isn't always a physical threat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Running up that Hill

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the prompt:
> 
> i’ve been thinking about dean/cas/benny  
> and i feel like dean would be all trusting of benny at first  
> and castiel would be like “when did you start trusting monsters”  
> and dean would say “i trusted you”  
> and ow that hurts and cas would be hurt and ow  
> and then cas would say “then i’m surprised you haven’t learned from your mistake”  
> and ow ow ow  
> “i don’t trust him. but i trust your judgement, dean”  
> and OW
> 
> and yeah this is how it turned out; not quite how I imagined it, but if there's anything these boys like it's to inflict pain on themselves. This was also written before S8 started, so now I guess it's a bit AUish and Benny isn't entirely accurate...

“It’s not all that far away, maybe a couple days walk. Once we get there, getting outta here’ll be easy.”

Benny answers Dean’s question causally, but that knowing smile never leaves his face. It’s the same with all the higher up supernatural beings, Dean thinks. They tend to carry an air of superiority, as well as a quick wit and a sharp tongue.

He’s gotten used to it; Dean’s dealt with enough creatures over the years to be able to manage the constant bombardment of dickishness. This guy doesn’t come close to being as smug and infuriating as Crowley, so Dean just rolls his eyes in response to that smarmy tone. “All right. Lead on man.”

Benny’s already walking slightly ahead of Dean and Cas, so it’s no hardship for him to press on a bit faster. With another smile, and a glint in his eye which makes Dean uncomfortable, Benny turns back from facing Dean to look forward at a path through the forest known only to him.

Dean shakes it off, gritting his teeth and just baring it because what other choice does he have? His head ducks as his pace quickens, focusing on any potential hazards which might make him fall. Purgatory’s not the kind of place you want to show any weakness in. Even with Benny on hand, the attacks happen daily and the smallest slip up would give the enemies waiting just out of sight all the encouragement they need to swoop down on them again.

Dean glances up, checking his line of sight for anything untoward. It’s Cas’ eyes that catch his attention instead. They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, and don’t think that Benny hadn’t been quick to make fun of that the first time he’d seen one of their epic staring contests. Cas’d just glared at Benny while Dean’d had to be the one to brush it off with another joke. Cas had been pretty much silent since they met Benny.

Dean knows why; it’s the anger he sees in Cas’ eyes. Over the years they’ve become quite good at these wordless conversations, but right now they’re out of practice. It’s been too long since they’ve done this, and the subtleties of what Cas is trying to say are lost on Dean. Dean gets that Cas is angry; he just can’t figure out why exactly.

They need a talk.

Dean pulls his eyes away from Cas’ whilst simultaneously trying to withstand the urge to roll his eyes. Too much eye rolling goes on here; it’s pretty much the only outlet for the frustration he feels towards Benny and Cas and  _Purgatory_ , but there’s a limit to the number of times a man can roll his eyes in one day. One endless day. It gets light and dark but Dean doesn’t think that’s because of the rising and setting of a sun.

It’s not a train of thought he wants to get too closely involved in, so instead he focuses on his current aim: initiate chick flick moment.  _God_ how is this his life, and when did it all become so messy?

He clears his throat a bit louder than is strictly necessary and slows his pace, causing Benny to come to a stop. He turns back to Dean as he slows, one thick eyebrow raised in amusement more than question.

Dean talks with confidence even though he knows the illusion won’t work on Benny. All the same, the unknown beasts in the dark aren’t the only one Dean needs to save face for.

“How ‘bout you walk ahead for a bit. I think I need to have a quick word with Cas.”

Dean refuses to look away from Benny, even as the curl of the corners of his lips becomes more pronounced. The reply he receives is airy and Dean hates him for being able to mask the feelings from his voice so well; the distinct difference between his demeanour and his words just makes the vein in Dean’s forehead throb that little bit harder.

“Suit yourself. Don’t get too far behind. Not everyone here’ll help you instead of hurting you.”

There’s the slightest bit of implication in his tone, and Dean sees Cas’ shoulders tense from the corner of his eyes at the same time as his own do.

Benny, the bastard, smirks that same old smile and waltzes ahead. Moments pass and he’s out of sight, the thick tangle of bushes and trees hiding him from Dean’s eyes. Then Dean’s left with the more pressing problem.

He didn’t think he’d ever see the day when Cas was more of a pressing problem than a dodgy alliance with a smarmy vampire, but then Dean’s never been all that good at accurately imagining the future. There’s a reason he’s never tried all that hard.

He draws in a deep breathe to gather himself as he turns towards Cas. The fire burning in his eyes has only been fanned by Benny’s words, and Dean’s already wishing this conversation was over. He’s trying to find a good way to start, but Cas is just staring at him with all that fury and Dean’s temper is too short for this.

“What?” he snaps out. He’d regret his tone if Cas’ face hadn’t darkened at his words.

Cas’ reply is just as sharp. “I don’t know what you mean. ‘What’ isn’t a very specific question.”

Dean swears Cas is trying to be infuriating on purpose. There’s no need for it, and Dean isn’t going to stand it for a second.

“No come on Cas, you’re looking at me all disapproving and judgemental and shit. What’s your problem?”

There’s a pause. Dean waits, mentally counting backwards from ten in his head to try and get himself to cool off a bit. Cas looks defiant and it’s not helping Dean’s concentration in the slightest.

Cas raises his head, subtly moving his shoulders back and his chin forward. His feet stand firmly apart and he looks Dean straight in the eyes.

“When did you start trusting monsters?”

It’s not even an accusation. It’s more of a statement which makes the slap sting that bit sharper.

Dean remembers wings as dark as the moon lit barn they appeared in, attached to a being who professed to have saved him from Hell. He remembers a park bench on a sunny afternoon, and a quiet confession that maybe this angel wasn’t as angelic as he should be. He remembers a dream notable not just for the anxious figure in a trench coat by his side, but for its tranquillity; completely unlike any other dream he’d had since his fourth birthday.  He remembers being thrust against a wall in a green room which wasn’t actually green, a hand across his mouth and ruby’s knife at his throat; a hand which released him and marked a change in the tides. He remembers a man who turned on his family and accepted his own death to try and get Dean back to his brother.

He remembers a junkie in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, dark circles under his eyes and an unfailing commitment to serve his leader. He remembers watching his brother take a knife to the chest of a hopeless being who had lost all faith he ever possessed, making yet another sacrifice to aid Dean on a mission which went against everything he’d lost his family for. He remembers watching his almost-human friend die for him; again; and again just to buy him five minutes of precious time with his brother. He remembers an angel restored, who left about the same time his mojo came back online.

He remembers a year of silence.

He remembers a chilled out guy revert back to being a soulless machine. He remembers watching everything they’d built together slip out of his reach. He remembers the ultimate betrayal and a ring of fire; a heart breaking glance back where he was forced to accept that they were on different sides.  He remembers when his best friend broke his brother to buy himself more time. He remembers a new God wearing the body of someone he’d once loved, announcing his dominance over him and all mankind.

He remembers a bloody and broken body asking for his forgiveness and being denied. He remembers getting his friend back against all odds only to have him ripped from his grasp, and dragged into a reservoir. He remembers bolting awake in the middle of the night, desperately clinging to a tan coat blotched with black goo and reeking of river water. He remembers the drinking and the darkness and the end of hope. He remembers a man in a blue jumper with a small wife, looking curiously at him as Dean told him demons walked the Earth. He remembers seeing an epiphany in another mans’ eyes, and the look of self-hatred that replaced wonder and confusion.  He remembers watching him sacrifice himself so that Dean could have his brother back. He remembers a child in white hospital scrubs and an oversized coat laughing to himself and staring at the ground, hands fidgeting all the while. He remembers forgiving him.

There’s only one monster in all of Dean’s life that he hasn’t hated or set out to kill. Just one.

Dean wants to cry at the injustice of it; wants to scream to an out-of-office God about how unfair it is that the one non-human he trusted was an angel;  _an angel,_ and that angel still managed to hurt him in ways almost no-one else could.

God isn’t here, but Cas is.

Cas, standing tall and firm with righteousness burning in his eyes and the smallest smug upturn to his mouth. Dean’s blood boils, carrying his hurt like poison through his veins, blistering away all understanding and rationality he has. His focuses that pain into his reply.

“I trusted you.”

It was almost too easy; three little venomous words were all it took to make Cas crumble. His shoulders fall forwards; his arms cling to the fabric of the trench coat swaying at his sides. All defiance and glory are gone, and shock is all that remains.

Blue eyes fall from Dean’s gaze to the forest floor as Cas’ heads bows; from admission, from shame. His hands start twitching again, fiddling with the belt of his coat, and  _shit_ Dean might have gone too far.

Dean feels sick; physically sick to his stomach. He’s not sure why he did that. He was just so angry and- it was too easy.

Easy and unnecessary. He wants to fix this. Didn’t he say he wanted to fix this? Then why is it so hard? Why does he see a walking, talking, biblical nightmare oozing black ink when he looks at Cas. Why does he see Bobby with a bullet in his head and wires sticking out of his body, or Sam with bleary, red rimmed eyes, telling Dean that Satan’s going to kill him and there’s nothing anyone can do?

Why does it still hurt?

To his credit, Cas pulls himself back together quicker than anyone who’s had supernatural soul pain raging around his head should have. He’s pulled himself back together from those three words quicker than Dean has. There’s so much power in three words.

Cas slowly raises his head, coming to look at Dean again. His eyes are pale and blue, and Dean can’t imagine them burning with the power of ten thousand suns like they did moments before. Cas looks horribly ordinary; horribly weak and vulnerable and  _human_.

Very few humans could say they’d have the same comeback in such a situation.

 “I’m surprised you haven’t learnt from your mistake.”

The words are soft but firm; like Cas recognises the truth in them; like he accepts that Dean’s faith in him was misplaced; like he knows that all he is to Dean is a horrible, horrible, mistake, yet he still cares for Dean enough that he would continue to warn him against making the same mistake twice.

He wasn’t a mistake. He wasn’t an accident, some unfortunate turn of events that Dean couldn’t get away from. Cas saved him from Hell; dragged his ass right out of perdition and reunited him with his brother, but then Dean was free to go his own way. He didn’t bond with Uriel, or Zachariah, or the newly restored Anna. It’d be easy to pretend that he had to bond with Cas and not the other angels because they were all sanctimonious dicks and Cas wasn’t, but that’s not it. Dean bonded with Cas, because- well, Cas was Cas.

Dean chose Cas. That wasn’t a mistake.

He sucks in breath to tell Cas that it isn’t true, that he doesn’t feel that way, but he can’t. He can’t say anything. There are sirens going off inside his head but it’s like he’s become detached. He’s out here in a sea of these emotions and he can’t make his limbs swim towards the shore.

Cas opens his mouth to speak again and all Dean can think is  _No_. He needs to say something here, he needs to tell Cas-  _he needs to tell him_.

But his mouth won’t work and his hands won’t work, and his eyes mustn’t work either because Cas doesn’t stop; he ploughs forward and says his piece.

“I don’t trust him, but I trust your judgement Dean.”

He says it with a smile and unquestioning, hopeful eyes that prove he means it. How can he? How can he trust Dean’s judgement when it brought them here? How can he trust Dean’s judgement when his choices and his decisions tore Cas away from his family and his home and his life and dragged him down into the dirt?

He wants to scream  _Don’t trust me. You put your faith in me and I broke you. Please, please don’t do it again,_ but he can’t; the hysterical words won’t fit round the lump in throat and all Dean can do is nod before turning his back on Cas and walking away. He puts one foot in front of the other and keeps walking, following the trail of footprints and broken branches Benny’s left behind.

Dean’s makes it about fifteen paces and Cas still hasn’t followed. The sound of his feet hitting the ground and his trench coat brushing past the undergrowth is distinctly lacking. It makes Dean pause, take control of the onslaught of emotions he’s feelings, and push them into a little box deep down inside him. There are times for dealing with your emotions, and this isn’t one of them. They’re in Purgatory.

His clenched right fist loosens, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothingly over the tips of his index and middle fingers. Dean turns his head to the side, not quite looking back but not looking away either.

“Are you coming?”

There’s a beat of silence where Dean almost expects Cas to protest; almost  _wants_  Cas to call him out on his bullshit and refuse to move before they talk about this, but he doesn’t. Instead there’s just a small sigh before he speaks.

“Of course.”

A shudder ripples through Dean’s body, making his fingers crawl back up against his palms. This is Purgatory; this is not the end. He’s not that Dean, and this Cas is not that Cas; this is not that conversation and neither of them have to be those people.

 Neither that Cas or this Cas are his Cas, but maybe they all are, and maybe, in time…

The swish of a trench coat through the cold air signals Dean to move on. He starts walking again but with less purpose. Benny doesn’t need their help to ward off the locals and Dean’s pretty sure that he’ll be far less ahead than he could be, given that Dean and Cas could be his ticket out of here. They’ve got the time to take it a little slow.

The vamp-made path through the undergrowth is big enough that two can walk side by side and soon enough Cas gets Dean’s hint and comes to walk alongside him, rather than trailing behind.

They can learn to be equals, one reluctant footstep through this wasteland at a time.


End file.
